I'm my Father's Son (Buh Bah, Buh Bah, this is the sound of)

I decided that a snow storm is without question the best time to go to a movie theater alone. Up in the Air directed by Jason Reitman is a powerhouse. It was So good. I put forward the most extreme aspects of my personality when I am alone. I laughed louder than any other theatergoer. There wasn't a contest; it's something I think I've been trained to do. My Dad does that. I resented in public places and Here I Am laughing up a Storm in a crowded theater.
I was part of a collective review at the urinals, too.
"This movie was really depressing."
"Especially because of the sensitive subject of the recession."
"This is definitely not a holiday film. Last year around this time, my wife and I saw Valkyrie."

I agree with Max about Criticism. There is good in every piece of art. There's a point. I like being critical because it puts me, really without merit, in a position of power and influential subjectivity. It's Stupid, though. There's no reason that my opinion should count for more, or that you can't experience something beautiful beyond my clever critique. And there is my haphazard criticism of criticism.

The movie last night made me want to be different. George Clooney is a terrible person. He's laid brick for walls that surround him. He's close to no one. It's life for him. He's a great talker and he can make friends with most (that charming grin!) but he's got nuffin to lose but darkness and shadows.
I haven't been him. I'm not him. I'm connected to a lot, but I have a habit of getting up and leaving when a threat of emotional pain (or commitment, frankly) comes along. There's a girl or two somewhere in Oregon that laugh when I write that I'm sorry because it's over now and it doesn't matter. I missed the mark.

I'm trying to turn a new leaf. I'm trying to uproot myself. I don't want what I wanted before. Ms. Blum, I don't think I've made that clear. You'll get to know me.


One of my other friends wrote something that reminded me of the Intelligence versus Faith debacle. The smartest have the hardest time believing, just emptying their briefcases or backpacks and walking into something unknown.

Well, it doesn't stop with Faith. I can throw down some statistics (some fictional) and personal experience that will disprove idealism, but there's something beyond this masonry. I've had a hard time putting myself into anything that's stable. Something better might come along, right, but if you (Yes you) spend your whole life searching and correcting, criticizing, you'll miss out on everything.